Hobo Christmas Past Poem by jackilton peachum
Hobo Christmas Past
Old toothless queen with rheumy eyes,
I'm seeing you again, across a smoky fire-
near an underpass, hillside grey with weather,
you hold forth over a can of hot soup,
stopping to guzzle wine, mutter in your whiskers,
something about peace and love
- a wink at the words-
wind cries in the pines overhead,
snowflakes are dancing, falling on the siding,
a December afternoon turning bitter cold.
-
Narrative? Cliche, perhaps.
Wow I almost think you were there, sitting across from the fire. ;) I sure felt that I was.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 12:19:03 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Please feel free to translate-